


Oh

by TheDemonLedger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College Professor!Remus, Drinking, Drunk Email, Drunk Sex, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Multiple Partners, Oral Sex, Party, Rough Sex, Sex, Slutty!Hermione, Teacher-Student Relationship, college party, mention of characters, post breakup sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-21 21:17:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17050730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDemonLedger/pseuds/TheDemonLedger
Summary: Hermione sends a drunken email to her very hot professor; expecting nothing to come of it, she has a drunken tryst with an ex that same night. A reply was all she thought she'd recieve; she gets much more than that.Part of Writing Wonderland, a self-prompt to post every day for a month.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> *Disclaimer: I do not own any of the copyrighted materials own by J.K. Rowling, Pottermore, or Bloomsbury, as well as any IP's owned by Warner Bros., or similar companies. This material is of original design and may contain content unsuitable for some audiences.

Hermione’s pulse was very fast, and she took another sip from her long-stemmed wine glass, draining the last mouthful before reaching across her desk for the rest of the bottle. The sound the bottle made as it emptied made her giggle, and she set it gently in her trash bin before returning to the fuzzy screen in front of her face. Her computer was sitting open, the blue light harsh on her eyes and against her skin in the dark room, but she had no mind to care. She drank quickly, swaying in her seat, and continued to scan through lines of emails, searching for the correct address.

“Aha!” she said, hiccuping as she found it. She pressed her fingers against her lips and leaned forward, squinting at the screen, trying to bring it into uneasy focus. There was so much Hermione simply wasn’t good at yet: reading while drunk; holding her liquor; sex and love and making her boyfriends feel at ease. Hermione leaned back and closed her eyes, wrapping her hands around the back of her neck so that they laced together. She wasn’t sure, she thought as her head lolled back on her shoulders, eyes still closed even though the room was now spinning, where she’d gone wrong. She’d read as much as she could about good relationships, healthy boundaries and milestones; she’d ruined her search history by trying to find out as much as she could about sex before she’d done it the first time - that is, until Luna showed her how to clear her history and open a private searching tab. (Hermione was certain technology would never be her strong suit.) She opened her eyes and leaned back forward, taking another long draft of wine.

She hovered her mouse over the name attached to the email, and moved it down to the “send email” button. She paused then, considering herself. Was this really something she wanted to go through with? Hermione shook her head and put her hand on the screen of her laptop, leaning it forward to close it. She paused, though, and took a moment to really think. Her head was spinning a bit from the wine, and her face and fingers were tingling with anxiety and adrenaline. _This is stupid,_ she thought to herself, _truly stupid._ She closed her laptop and stood, sighing. There was no way she was going to send that email. Heading to the door to her dorm room, she opened it, stepping out into the chill November air. Her campus was large and sprawling, and she could see a party in the rooms across from hers. She leaned against the frame of her door and ran a hand down her face. The breeze moved her hair, which brushed against her neck, tickling. She stepped back into her dorm room, closing the door behind her. It was dark now, the only light that which streamed through her cracked blinds from the white streetlight outside. It fell in harsh lines across her bed, floor, and desk. She glanced at it, picked up her wine glass, and drained it, setting it back down gently before grabbing her laptop and heading to her bed. Pulling off her jeans, she climbed into bed and unhooked her bra under her shirt, pulling it out through her sleeve and tossing it onto the ground with her jeans.

Her laptop was still unlocked when she opened it, showing the screen she’d left on: the mouse hovered over the “send email” button still. Hermione clicked it, and typed without thinking.

**from: “Hermione Jean Granger”  
** **to: “R. J. Lupin”**

**subject: Meeting**

Hermione paused then, biting her lip. Was that too casual a subject? Did she need to be more specific? She groaned. There were so many factors to consider in this, the least of which how many rules she was possibly breaking in doing it. She could get expelled - he could get fired. There was a whirlwind of thoughts racing through her head, but she plowed forward, deliberately deciding to be unconcerned with the repercussions until she needed to face them. She deleted the subject line, keeping it blank, and moved to the body of the email, beginning to type.  
  
_Professor,_

_Good evening. I’m currently enrolled in your course on monarchy and nobility in England from 1450 to 1800. I was hoping to meet with you to discuss other topics. I would love to hear your thoughts on basically anything. Perhaps we could have coffee this Sunday, if you’re not too terribly busy. It would mean a great deal to me!_

_Hoping to hear back from you soon._

_Yours,_

_Hermione Granger_  
  
Hermione moved her mouse to the send button, closed her eyes, and clicked. There was no going back now. She shut her laptop and set it carefully on her nightstand, huffing as she fell back against her pillows. This was a tragic mistake she’d made and she knew it. She’d kept it vague, and knew that would help her were this to come back ‘round on her, but her heart still pounded with undisguised anxiety. Her phone buzzed from across the room, but she was far too tired to get it. It kept ringing, vibrating on the corner of her desk until it fell with an undignified thump onto the floor and she felt forced to retrieve it. She moaned as she sat up and swung her legs out of the bed, wondering who on earth could be calling her this time of night. Her phone lit up as she reached it, and she saw who was calling. Ronald Weasley’s face shone with a bright grin from the screen, and she slid her finger across to answer it.

“‘Lo?” she said, voice low. She cleared her throat.

“‘Mione, what are you doing right now?” asked Ron.

“Nothing.” she replied, closing her eyes and rolling her head back on her shoulders. She yawned widely. “Why?”

“The party at Neville’s is wicked good and you gotta get over here. We’re playing truth or dare and they dared me to get you to join.” He sounded more drunk than her, which was surprising, considering she’d had an entire bottle of wine in less than an hour. Hermione laughed.

“Okay, but I have class early.” she said, a smile twitching on the corner of her mouth. She turned, reaching down in the darkness to grab her bra and jeans off the floor again.

“How early?” Ron said. “Hang on, I’m coming across.” Her phone binged, and she reached up to take it as she pulled her jeans on quickly with one hand. She was just buttoning them as her door swung open and Ron flicked on the overhead switch beside the door. The fluorescent lights flickered on above her and Hermione squinted at him. “How early?” he repeated, crossing his arms.

“Early.” she said, looking down at the bra in her hand and shrugging as she tossed it onto the bed. “Like, nine o’clock early.”

“Oh, you’ll make it.” replied Ron, stepping further in and shutting the door behind him. Hermione cocked her head at him. He began to walk towards her, a hungry look in his eyes.

“Are you drunk?” she asked, a coy smile sneaking its way onto her face. He nodded and grinned at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be taking me back to that party of yours, too?” Ron nodded again and continue towards her, more slowly. Hermione closed the gap between them and threw her arms around his neck, capturing his mouth in an unexpected kiss which caused him to gasp. She eased her tongue into his open mouth, bruising his lips with her own fierce kisses. Ron’s hands slipped down to her waist and gripped it tight, his fingers forming into fists in her loose t-shirt. Hermione moaned against his mouth and pushed him back towards her bed. His knees hit the edge of it, and he fell gracelessly onto it, catching himself with his hand before his head hit the back wall. Hermione released him, and sank to her knees in front of him, drunken fingers fumbling with the button and fly on his jeans. Ron put a hand against hers to stop her, and she looked up.

“Hermione, we’re broken up. Are you sure you want to do this?” he said, brows furrowed. Hermione’s already flushed face grew hotter.

“Yes.” she replied.

“And… and it won’t be a problem later, if nothing comes of it?” Ron asked, his voice persistent.

“Nope.” Hermione pushed his hand away and continued to work on his fly. He helped her, a little awkwardly, until finally she had his half-hard cock in her hand, and she was working it with a ferocity she hadn’t felt since right before they’d ended things. Ron’s stuttering pants and low moans were causing a wet heat to build in her panties, and she slipped a hand down into her own pants, past the waistline of her jeans, to her swollen nub and hot core. She moaned, head falling backward as she began to work both of them at once. It was a touch uncomfortable, as she was using her non-dominant hand on herself, which began to cramp not only from the tightness of her jeans but lack of general use in this department of function; her legs were starting to ache from being crouched in a squat, and she lowered onto her knees. Ron watched her through heavily lidded eyes, mouth slightly agape. A low, but loud moan escaped him when she wrapped her mouth firmly around the head of his now weeping dick and began to suck hard, her cheeks hollowing out as she did. She bobbed her head in rhythm with the strokes she provided, moaning softly as she continued to touch herself. One of Ron’s hands went to the back of her head - not forcing necessarily, but brushing her hair back and feeling the way she pulsed against him. Finally, she released his member from her mouth with a loud pop, letting it bounce back towards him. Hermione looked up at him and made the decision quickly.

“Fuck me.” she said. Ron’s eyes widen and she thought she saw his cock twitch. He nodded and she stood, removing her jeans but not her underwear. They had to get back to this party before someone noticed Ron had been gone for too long. Hermione knew she’d built up enough of a reputation as a recluse that twenty minutes should be plenty of time to avoid awkward questions, but any longer and Harry or Ginny might grow suspect. She pushed her panties to the side as she climbed over him, using her free hand to guide his dick into her tight entrance. She slid down him, wincing a little as her walls protested against him. Her hips met his, and she paused as he pushed up, furthering his reach into her. Drunk or not, Ron was sometimes a lot for her to take in. The moment passed though, and she lifted slowly up and fell hard back onto him, her soft breaths turning into hard, heedy moans. Ron lifted up her shirt and sucked one of her pert, pink nipples into his mouth, his low, steady groans of pleasure filling the room. She trembled against him, feeling her walls starting to pulse as he moved his hands to lift up her hips, thrusting hard and fast into her. Ron’s moans had turned to gasps and his fingers gripped her tighter than before, digging into her ass as they did so.

“Ron-” she said shudderingly. Her voice was a hoarse whisper. “Oh my god I’m gonna-” was all the warning she was able to get out before her hands, which had been on his shoulders, moved to his hair as she pushed her shirt out of the way and she came hard against him, moaning between gritted teeth as her fingernails dug into his scalp, causing him to hiss in pain. She kissed him hard as he continued to thrust into her, becoming more and more erratic. The sensation was overwhelming; her whole body was hot and covered in a light sheen of sweat, and the more he thrust into her, the more the tingles turned into twinges of pain. He came only a moment later, pumping his hips once more hard into her. Hermione leaned her forehead against his and panted.

“You should go back.” Hermione said after a few moments, lifting herself up and off of him. She pushed her underwear back into place, keeping his sticky cum from sliding down her legs. Ron nodded and tucked his softening dick back into his own pants before standing up and zipping his jeans. She patted his hand. There was a tension between them that hadn’t been there when he entered the room. She felt the need to speak. “Thank you for that.” she said, a little weakly. Ron nodded again and gave her a tight lipped smile, not meeting her eyes.

“See you in a mo’.” he replied, voice flat. With that, he left. Hermione rolled her eyes. She didn’t have the energy to play into Ron’s games. Why did he check with _her_ that _she_ would be okay, when _he_ was the one that so obviously wasn’t? Hermione sighed and picked her jeans up from the floor, then looked towards the shared bathroom. She really wanted to shower before heading over, if only to get the smell of sex off her skin and rinse the cum out of her. While she wasn’t worried about getting pregnant - her birth control had always been good to her - she didn’t exactly enjoy the feeling of his seed leaving her cunt and settling in her pants. She walked over to her dresser, retrieved a new pair of knickers, a soft tank-top and new t-shirt. She dragged her towel from this morning off the back of her chair and headed into the bathroom. She didn’t bother to lock her own door, but locked the door to her suit-mates room, where Cho Chang was no doubt having a far more quiet rendezvous of her own with her already graduated boy-thing, Michael Corner. Hermione turned on the shower, not waiting for it to warm up before stepping in. The cold water cleared her head, taking away some of her residual drunkenness. She washed quickly, not bothering with her hair as it would take hours to dry if she washed it now. The wet ends could be brushed out. Her hand went between her legs, rinsing what was left of her tryst with Ron. Her heart skipped and she felt tears bloom in her eyes. It hadn’t been that long since they’d broken up, but it had felt like forever since someone had touched her the way he did. She realized it wasn’t even sweet or passionate or heartfelt. It was a quick fuck on her bed before going to a party she didn’t really want to be at. She turned the water off and towelled dry quickly before throwing her clothes on. She dumped her other clothes, which smelled now of sex and softly of his soap and aftershave, into her hamper, grabbed her keys, and left her room. She padded carefully between the dorms in bare feet, avoiding any broken glass by cutting down to the walkway that went to the different buildings on campus. Music was thrumming from Neville’s room, the door ajar. She could see Ron sitting on the chair nearest the door, Lavender Brown cozy on his lap. She’d almost forgotten they’d started dating. Guilt hit her like a freight train, but she pushed it down and sidled into the room. A chorus of cheers greeted her, and she grinned manically.

“Hey everyone.” she said, raising one hand. She shoved her keys in the front pocket of her jeans and accepted a drink from Dean, who winked as he handed it over.

“The Americans call it Jungle Juice.” said Seamus from the floor. Dean winked at him too, but Hermione was positive it was filled with a different sort of meaning.

“Not all of them,” said Ginny, whose head was resting against Harry’s leg. Harry was sat in a chair behind her, but quickly proffered it to Hermione. She shook her head and waved him off, and he sat back down. “I heard it called Hunch Punch last time I was around one.” Everyone laughed. Hermione took a sip. The drink was vulgar - she could taste a mix of fruit juices and white liquor that made her insides seize. But she could tell it was strong, and needed that if she was going to keep up appearances in a room with Lavender and Ron. She could hear Lavender’s breathy giggles and looked over to see Ron whispering something to her.

“What have you been up to?” asked Hermione, looking back around the room. It was far too full for how small it was, but Neville and Terry Boot shared - and since Terry was always at his girlfriend’s apartment, he basically got the dorm to himself. Everyone shrugged in response to her question and Hermione laughed. “Okay, let me rephrase. Why a party?”

“Oh!” Luna said, bouncing slightly on Neville’s lap. “The twins get back from France tonight and we thought we’d throw something for them. Padma’s getting them at the airport now.” Hermione cocked an eyebrow and looked at Ron.

“Padma?” she asked, a hint of bitterness in her voice. “As in, Patil? Why isn’t Ron getting them?”

“Padma’s the only one with a car, remember?” said Ron, not looking at her. He had a smile plastered onto his face, one that she knew was fake. Hermione glanced down at Ginny, who’s brow was furrowed. “Plus, she’s got a thing for George.”

Parvati spluttered as she took a sip of her drink. “No way she told you that!” she said. Hermione sank down next to Ginny, who scooted further between Harry’s legs to make room for her. The sounds of Ron, Lavender, and Parvati’s drunken conversation fuzzed over. She continued to drink her overly sweet beverage until it was gone, then set her cup down, only to have it handed back to her, full, by Ginny; Hermione hadn’t even noticed her get up. Ginny knelt down and put a hand on Hermione’s, their subtle way of getting each other’s attention.

“Wanna come out for a smoke with me?” she asked, holding up a rollie. No one else in the room seemed to have noticed, and Harry was slowly falling asleep. Hermione nodded, grateful to get the fresh air even if she had only been there for five minutes. It felt like hours. “It’s late,” said Ginny as they stepped outside and began to walk away from the dorm, back towards Hermione’s, “and I want to go to bed. But…” she paused to light the joint. A cloud of smoke billowed up from her as she exhaled. “I told Harry we could do it tonight.” Hermione nodded and accepted the joint after Ginny took a few hits. Hermione wasn’t much for marijuana - or smoking for that matter - but she was full of jitters from her email and guilt from sleeping with Ron.

“I, uh,” started Hermione, taking a few puffs before continuing. “I fucked Ron before I came over.” Ginny choked and coughed on her inhale, face turning red and eyes streaming as she handed the joint back to Hermione. Accepting it, Hermione waited for Ginny to regain her composure before continuing on. “It was sort of a spur of the moment thing. It just sort of happened. I feel really bad.”

“Hermione, why?” asked Ginny, her voice hoarse. They sat on the couch which was a permanent fixture outside of Hermione’s room. Ginny cleared her throat, and Hermione handed her back the joint before going inside to get a glass of water. The moment away let Hermione think about what Ginny meant by why.

“Why did I do it or why do I feel bad?”

“Mostly the first one, but definitely both.”

“I’m fucking lonely, Gin.” said Hermione, shaking her head as the joint was offered back to her. She felt dizzy and a little lightheaded - her face was tighter than she wanted it to be. “And also I feel bad because I forgot that he’s seeing Lavender.” Hermione finished, hiccuping as she took another sip of her drink.

“Oh shit,” said Ginny, her eyes widening. “I forgot all about that.”

“Dunno how, they’re always all over each other.”

“Because my dumbass brother still spends more time with you, or talking about you, or pining after you, than he does his own girlfriend.”

“Is that what she is?”

“Dunno.” The conversation came to a comfortable pause. Hermione could hear cars rushing by on the motorway, and the sound of a car pulling up and doors slamming pulled her back to the reality of the moment.

“Fred and George might be back now.” she said, standing up. Ginny stood with her, and they quickly made their way back to Neville’s dorm to tell everyone.

* * *

The night moved by fast after that. Fred and George had been happy to see everyone, but were exhausted and jet lagged to the point that when George accepted Padma pulling him up to her dorm room, Fred had taken to crashing face first onto Terry Boot’s unmade bed, forcing everyone else to take their leave around then too. Hermione had hung around to help clean up the plastic solo cups and help Neville dump the rest of the tub of jungle juice in the flower bed around the corner. Hermione ended up in bed around one-thirty, knowing she’d be nursing the worst hangover ever the next day, but not thinking at all about the email she’d sent hours earlier.

* * *

She made it to class late. Her hair was thrown up into a messy bun, she’d dragged on a sweatshirt over the shirt she’d worn the night before, and had quickly applied mascara before running out the door. She wasn’t very late, but enough that when she took her seat beside Harry, he looked over.

“Where’ve you been?” he hissed.

“Overslept.” she whispered back, pulling out her notebook and pencil case.

“It’s 9:30.”

“I overslept.” she repeated, pushing an errant piece of hair out of her face

“I’m positive Prof Lupin noticed.”

Hermione nodded and continued to take notes furiously, making a mental note to send an email to Lupin later on and ask for the slides from his… Hermione stopped writing and pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers.

“Fuck.” she whispered.

“What?” whispered Harry.”

“I sent Prof Lupin an email last night.”

“Okay…?”

Hermione paused, biting her lip. She looked up at him across the lecture room. “I was drunk.”

“Was it bad?”

“I just asked to meet with him over coffee.” she paused.

“Doesn’t seem so bad.”

“I sent it at midnight, Harry. And signed it with ‘yours’.”

“Oh.” he looked over at her and shook his head. There was a pause between them while Lupin continued to speak. “I don’t get why that’s a problem.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Because, Harry-”

“Perhaps,” rang out Lupin’s voice, a little louder than it had been before, “Ms. Granger could answer the question, since she seems to have so much to say.”

Hermione looked up, a flush filling in her cheeks quickly. Sweat pricked at the back of her neck, and she stuttered for a moment on the brink of speech.

“Well?” said Lupin, his sharp eyes on her. He walked up to the nearest empty desk in the front row and leaned against it, one hand against the attached chair, the other in the pocket of  his tight slacks. It felt like he was scorching her with his gaze. “Can you answer my question, Ms. Granger?” Hermione’s cheeks burned hotter.

“I didn’t hear it, I’m sorry.” she said, voice low.

“What was that?”

“I didn’t hear your question, Professor.” she said again, louder this time. Her fist clenched under her desk, and she cleared her throat. “I apologize.”

Remus Lupin looked at her for another long moment. He was tall and sinewy, his hair going an early gray, his face deeply lined where he smiled and frowned. Even if she’d never seen such things, she could tell by the lines on his face that he was a deeply expressive man. He leaned back and nodded, then turned and walked back towards the computer. The room was tense with the silence that followed.

“The question,” he continued, “was what year did King Henry VIII change England’s core religion, and what was the name of the religion he changed it to?” He looked up at her again. “Ms. Granger.”

“He changed it to the current official religion of England, Anglican. The year the church was established was 1534, but it didn’t become the dominant or official religion of England until the second schism, under Elizabeth I in 1559, when she took over from Mary.” There was a pause in which Lupin and Hermione looked at each other, and he seemed to size her up. He chuckled slightly to himself.

“Someone’s read ahead.”

“I’m actually just a Protestant, sir.” The room erupted with awkward laughter, and Lupin joined with it, shoving his hands into his pockets. The rest of class continued on normally, right up until Lupin dismissed everyone. Hermione was shoving her school things back into her book bag, when his voice rang out from the front of the room.

“Ms. Granger, will you see me up front for a moment, please?” Hermione paused and raised an eyebrow at Harry, who looked back at her with mock confusion. She waved him away and slung her rucksack over her shoulder, then headed down the stairs between the desks towards the chalkboard. Lupin leaned against his desk and cocked his head to one side, his eyes narrowed slightly. Then he leaned forward, towards her, head straight, and seemed to be sizing her up again. She didn’t like the feeling of being surveyed, and his eyes - hazel or green, Hermione couldn’t tell in the stark white of the classroom fluorescents - seemed to see right through her. “I got your email.” he said with a smirk. He leaned back again, his hands deep in his pants pockets. Hermione could feel her heart skipping every other beat.

“Ah.” she said.

“I’m not going to pretend I understand what your motivation of sending me an email around midnight was, so we don’t need to talk further about that. However, if you wanted to talk to me about school things, I have office hours you’re welcome to attend just like any other student here.” His eyes glinted with a mischief she’d yet to see from a professor. Hermione’s heart raced even faster.

“Professor, I’m sorry, I wasn’t-”

Remus held up a hand to stop her, and the words caught in Hermione’s throat. “However.” he paused, and she could almost see how carefully he was choosing his next words. “If this isn’t about school, I’m afraid it’s very inappropriate.” Hermione could feel the heat climbing up her face again, and her eyes widened as Lupin reached a hand out and tucked two fingers beneath her chin. “You’re a very smart woman, Ms. Granger. Any boy your age would be lucky to get an email from you.” Lupin let his hand drop, but his tone lingered even in the silence.

“Thank you professor.” said Hermione, who stepped back a few paces, waiting for him to dismiss her. He waved a hand in her direction and turned back towards his desk. She stumbled away, making it halfway up the stairs before he spoke again.

“Come to my office hours this evening.” he said, stopping her in her tracks. “I’ll make coffee and we can talk about your essay.” Hermione pressed a hand to her face and continued up and out of the classroom.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione attends to things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Disclaimer: I do not own any of the copyrighted materials own by J.K. Rowling, Pottermore, or Bloomsbury, as well as any IP's owned by Warner Bros., or similar companies. This material is of original design and may contain content unsuitable for some audiences.

When she got back to her dorm room later that afternoon, she opened her email to find not one, but two from Professor Lupin. The first one was a response to her email, simply asking her to see him after class. Hermione thought she saved herself a lot of anxiety by not checking her email before heading out this morning. The second was titled “Coffee and Essay”.

_Miss Granger,_

_Bring a copy of your first essay by my office around six. I hope you like instant._

_\--Professor Lupin_

Hermione groaned and sunk deeper into her chair. Lupin was possibly - probably, definitely - the hottest teacher she’d ever had, ever. She was also positive he was the single best history teacher she’d had since, well, forever, as her secondary school teacher had been an old man who taught straight from the book and might only be more interesting if he’d been a ghost. Even then, she thought, it would still be a stretch. She looked at the clock - it was 3:40. She had enough time to get a glass of wine and half a joint in her, run to the copy room to print her essay, change into real clothes, and still have half an hour to amble down to the staff offices. Hermione closed her laptop and laid her head down on top of it, cheeks burning. There was so much going on inside her head she thought it might explode. What was meant to be a simple fuck with Ron had filled her with more guilt than she’d expected; she’d sent a drunken email to a professor whom she respected; her feelings of loneliness were increasing and so, coincidentally, was her alcohol consumption. She stood and reached to the shelf above her desk, pulling down a bottle of white wine. The top was a screw off, so she didn’t have to worry about finding a corkscrew. She twisted it off and poured wine into the glass from the night before, then screwed the cap back on and set it on the floor beneath her desk. A few sips, and then she figured she might as well get dressed for the rest of the day. Friday nights were always busy ones on campus, especially as they edged more and more towards the cold season and the Christmas holidays. Hermione could only imagine the rowdiness of the dorm by the time she’d get back from her meeting with Lupin. Thinking of the meeting with Lupin made her head spin, and she took another sip of wine to clear it.

Hermione dressed in a simple blue top and a pair of fitted jeans, but slid her feet back into her worn sneakers. _No use dressing up to meet a professor, Hermione,_ she chided herself. She carried her glass of wine out of her room and up the stairs, going a few doors down to where Ginny and Luna bunked together. She knocked twice.

“Just a minute,” she heard from inside. There was a vague amount of rustling, then the door opened a crack, and Ginny peeked her head out, hair bed-tangled, clad in only a bathrobe. “Oh, it’s you.” she opened the door the rest of the way and let Hermione in. Ginny’s room was immaculately clean - much cleaner than Hermione’s - and she figured it might have had something to do with Luna’s quirky ability to become a tornado when she was in a hurry. Having grown up with five brothers coming in and out of the house, with no room to call her own until she was 15, Hermione figured Ginny kept things as clean as possible as often as she could. _For sanity's sake,_ thought Hermione kindly. Ginny wrapped her arms more firmly around herself. “What’s up?”

“Did you just wake up?” asked Hermione, brows furrowed.

“Yeah,” came Harry’s voice from the bed. Hermione jumped back, looking at him as he appeared from under the sheet. “We were napping, I swear.”

“We woke up and thought about doing stuff, but then you knocked.” Ginny said. “I swear if it hadn’t been you, I would’ve told you to shove off. But, since it is you, what’s up?”

Hermione smiled. “Do you want to get dressed?” Ginny looked down, then laughed embarrassedly and nodded. Hermione pointed to the door. “I’ll be right outside. I just wanted to smoke if you have a second.” She stepped back outside and leaned against the balcony railing, looking down into the courtyard below. There was a game of soccer going on between Dean, Seamus, Neville and Colin Creevey, a freshman. Hermione checked her watch. It was 4:00 now. She heard a door slam across the way and looked up to see Lavender Brown staring daggers at her. Hermione’s heart dropped, and she turned back to Ginny’s door.

“Let me in,” she said, knocking hard. “Ginny, let me in.” The door opened and Harry stood in the doorway, pants up but unbuttoned, without a shirt. Hermione shoved past him, and he closed the door behind her.

“What’s wrong?” came Ginny’s voice from the bathroom.

“Lavender looks really mad.” Hermione said. “There is way too much going on. I cannot deal with everything that’s happened in the last, like, eighteen hours.” Ginny laughed and exited the bathroom. She saw the stricken look on Hermione’s face, which melted the smile from her own.

“Oh, Hermione.” said Ginny, walking forward. Hermione felt her throat constrict with emotion, but forbade herself from crying. She rocked back on her heels, looked up at the ceiling, then back down at Ginny. Tears sprang to her eyes.

“I fucked up,” said Hermione with a quaver in her voice, “like, a bunch within the last five months, and especially last night. I sent that stupid email to Professor Lupin and then I had to go and- and now-” Hermione’s sentence stuttered to a stop.

“What email?” asked Ginny. Hermione pulled out her phone and showed her the email, with his response attached. Ginny raised her eyebrows and looked at Hermione. “What did he say after class?”

“That it was highly inappropriate,” Hermione’s stomach was twisted in knots. “But then he asked me to come to his office hours!” She ran her hands through her hair, feeling them catch in the mess of tangles towards the ends, but not being bothered enough to care. Ginny’s eyebrows shot further up her face, and she glanced over at Harry.

“What?” asked Harry indignantly. “I don’t know why everyone keeps expecting me to know things.”  

“Did he say anything else?” asked Ginny. Hermione could tell her hunger for gossip was usurping her ability to see the situation clearly. She shrugged and pulled out Ginny’s desk chair, throwing herself into it. The wine still clutched in her hands sloshed in the glass, and she threw it back, finishing the last of it. “Well, we should smoke.”

“Not in here,” said Harry. “I gotta study.” Harry pulled his book bag onto the bed. “Not all of us are lucky enough to have a meeting with the professor this evening.” Hermione rolled her eyes, but blushed hard all the same.

“I’ll check if the coast is clear.” said Ginny. She pulled a joint from a large match box tucked neatly in a desk drawer, then stepped towards the door. Just as she put her hand on the doorknob, there was a light knock. Ginny stepped back, alarmed. “Who is it?” she asked, looking at Hermione with wide eyes. Her mouth was drawn in a fretful line.

“It’s Ron.” came the voice from the other side. “Is Hermione in there? I need to talk to her.” Hermione furrowed her brow and held her hands up, shaking them and her head quickly and vehemently.

“No, she left.” called Ginny back through the door.

“Can I come in?”

“No, I’m naked!”

Hermione heard Ron groan. “You’re a terrible liar even when I can’t see your poker face. Let me in, Ginny.” Ginny put a hand on Hermione’s, lit the joint, handed it to her, and went to the door.

“Sorry, no boys allowed.” she said as she opened it. Hermione pulled one knee up towards her chest. She took a long pull off the rollie between her fingers and handed it to Harry. He shrugged and took it. Ginny stepped back from the door, towards Hermione.

“I told Lavender about last night.” said Ron.

Harry frowned. “What do you mean last night?” He looked back at Hermione. “Did you tell him about the email?” He looked back at Ron. “What does that have to do with Lavender?”

Hermione could barely breathe. She just looked at Ron. “It wasn’t supposed to mean anything, Ron.” she said.

“Okay, but it fucking did, so.” Ron looked at her, and his face was unreadable. There was an inscrutable hurt in his eyes, one that made her long to reach towards him, pull him into her, and never let him go. But she left him for a reason, and she had to constantly remind herself of that reason. _You were never happy._ Hermione sighed. “And what fucking email are you talking about?”

“Ron, stop swearing.” chastised Ginny. He rolled his eyes in response.

“It’s nothing.” replied Hermione. “So what, did you two break up?”

“No.” said Ron forcefully. “She’s just mad. I’d steer clear of her, if you can.”

“Great.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be. What did you have to go and tell her for, anyway?”

“Because she’s my girlfriend!” Ron’s voice had raised, and now he was yelling. He swung his arms over his head, but accepted the joint from Ginny when it was offered to him. He took a long hit and let the smoke out with a quick breath, barely inhaling. “Because I thought I had something serious with her and then you-” Hermione’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and he stuttered to a stop. “God,” he paced forward and wrapped his hand around her arm, pulling her out of her chair and from the room. Hermione tugged against him, trying to pry his fingers off her, but it just made him hold on tighter.

“Ron, you’re hurting me.” she whimpered, a pleading look crossing her face. He was scary when he got mad, but he’d never acted like this.

“I’m sorry.” he said, retracting his hand quickly. “I’m sorry.” His shoulders slumped and he brought a hand to his eyes; Hermione wasn’t sure what to do. Was he crying? Should she comfort him? She looked down the balcony and across the way. There was no one around. After a moment, making sure no one was watching, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, tucking her head beneath his. The advantage of Ron being tall and her being short was that this simple act of comfort was easy, natural, simple. Perhaps that was just because of how she felt for him, because she’d known him more than half her life; because she loved him, still.

“I’m the one that should be sorry.” she whispered. Ron let his forehead drop onto the top of her head.

“You’re gonna do me in, Hermione, you know that?” He stepped back, his hands on either of her shoulders. “I-” He paused, leaning slightly to catch her eye. She looked at him, his blue eyes somehow mysterious in the fading light of the day. “You’re my best friend.”

“Better than Harry?” she asked slyly, lips twitching as she tried to repress a smile.

“Not fair.” he said sternly, though he ruined the effect by winking. His eyes softened, but his lips drew into a hard line. “You just really need to not do that again. I’ll never be able to resist you.”

“Even if you’re married to her?”

Ron’s closed his eyes. His nose wrinkled almost imperceptibly, but his hands fell from her shoulders and he stepped back. “Yeah, even if I get married to… to Lavender Brown and have five kids.” His eyes were hard and full of hurt again, and Hermione felt even worse than before. “I’ll never be able to say no to you.” Hermione nodded.

“Then why are you with her?”

“Because, Hermione, I had to move on eventually.”

“You haven’t, though, have you?”

“No, but why does that matter to you?”

“I just want you to be happy, Ron.”

“Then stop.” His tone was final. He took another step backwards from her, crossed his arms over his chest, and furrowed his brows. “Stop making me want you.” Hermione could feel that same tension building in her throat and chest, the one that always came before the tears. The door to her left opened, and Ginny poked her head out.

“Are you two about done yet? ‘Mione and I were supposed to talk.” Ginny said. Hermione looked at Ron, who nodded and turned on his heel. He was half-way down the balcony hallway when he stopped and turned back around. His gaze was searching, and Hermione thought for a moment about running to him, wrapping her arms around him and asking him to take her back; instead she crossed her own arms over her chest and moved into Ginny’s room, choosing, carefully, not to look back at Ron. As soon as she crossed the threshold, the moment was broken, the string was cut, and Hermione’s tension fell upon her like a weight. She heaved a great gasp as tears welled in her eyes, spilling over like drops of rain down a car windshield.

“Hermione,” said Harry, rushing forward, but Ginny got there first, wrapping her skinny arms around Hermione’s thin frame. Hermione pushed the heels of her hands against her eyes, trying in vain to press the tears back into her head. Everything was overwhelming, and time was so fleeting; she felt like she would never have enough of it. Harry placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. This was silly, and she knew it. She would never have enough time to do anything if she stood around weeping all day. Holding up her hands, she took a deep breath and stepped away from her friends.

“Let’s go talk in my room so Harry can do that studying, Gin.” she said, pleased to hear her voice had steadied out. Ginny nodded and the two girls left, Hermione grabbing her wine glass on the way out. Hermione’s watch read 4:21. She still had time.

In her room, Ginny sat on her bed and Hermione leaned against her desk, staring into the bottom of her empty wine glass.

“What are you gonna do?” asked Ginny, after the silence had stretched on long enough to become uncomfortable. Hermione shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you still love Ron?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you attracted to Lupin?”

Hermione looked up, her face burning. “Yes.” This was the only thing she was sure of right now, which made her feel unsteady and out of control. “Yes, but he’s a professor. And I’m what, twenty-two?” Hermione shook her head again and looked back down. “It’s ridiculous.” Ginny just watched Hermione for a little while, then hummed a short note and stood.

“I think you’re being overly critical. He asked you to come to his office. Either he really does want to look at your essay with you - in which case he’s a better teacher than, like, all of them, and I’m jealous - or it was just an excuse to reinact everyone’s favorite porno genre.” Ginny paused, causing Hermione to look up. There was a glint in her eye that reminded her of the one that she’d seen in Lupin’s hours earlier. Something mysterious but also mischievous, which made her heart beat unevenly. “I think if he doesn’t want you, there’s a hundred guys out there who do.” Hermione smiled a bit at this.

“Thanks, Ginny.” she said.

“The least of which being three of my six brothers.”

“What?”

“Oh my god, you would not believe what it was like when Ron brought you home summer after year 11.”

Hermione laughed at Ginny’s expression. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” said Ginny, choosing her words carefully, “that was the year after the braces and when you figured out what to do with your hair and… and you really just sort of…”

“Sort of?”

“Filled out.” Ginny said, motioning a woman’s figure with her hands.

“Oh.”

“And then, god, it was like… like a fucking madhouse.”

“How do you mean?”

Ginny’s eyes widened and she reached towards Hermione, hands curling into fists before they fell back to her sides. “It’s all any of the boys - well, except Bill - would talk about! ‘Did you see Hermione- what a _woman_ \- Ron’s really lucky to have a friend like that-’ on and on and on. It’s like they’d never seen a girl they weren’t related to before.”

“Or,” said Hermione, laughing. “Or, they’d never had a _woman_ they weren’t related to in their house before.” She placed the same over dramatised emphasis on the word woman as Ginny had. Hermione hiccuped as her laughter died down; she placed three fingers over her lips to try to control the sound coming from her spasming diaphragm.

Ginny nodded, chuckling. “Charlie and Fred were the worst.”

“Sort of weird.”

“Charlie always struck me as uninterested in women, but then-”

“Hm…” Hermione pondered. “Charlie: safari guide, lion caretaker. I could do worse.” They both busted up laughing at this, until their sides ached and Hermione had to sit in her desk chair, taking deep breaths. Perhaps it was a combination of the marijuana and glass of wine, but she felt better. Her head felt less heavy, her heart felt less full. She looked over at Ginny, whose face was slightly pink from laughing and who was wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. “Thank you,” she said. Ginny nodded and stood, walking over to Hermione.

“You’ve got nothing to be worried about.” Ginny leaned against the desk next to her, peering down when her foot hit something under the desk. She pulled out the bottle of wine and looked at Hermione, eyebrow half-cocked. “More?” Hermione nodded and Ginny found another glass on Hermione’s dresser, blowing the dust out of it before spilling wine into it, then the long stemmed wine glass still clutched in her best friends hand. “Did he say anything else?”

Hermione wracked her brains for the conversation from earlier. She’d felt completely fuzzy, like her body had been taken over by static, so she wasn’t sure if she was remembering things clearly, if at all. There had been a moment, where he’d leaned forward and touched her face. “He told me ‘any guy would be lucky to receive an email from me’.” Ginny’s eyebrows shot up her forehead.

“Damn, that’s pretty suave.”

“I know!” Hermione glanced down at her watch. With all the time spent chatting and laughing, it was closing in on five. She couldn’t be bothered to shower, but she still needed to get some things together and send a few emails before going to meet with Lupin. Ginny leaned casually against her desk as Hermione pulled her laptop closer to her, clicking the mouse pad a couple times to wake up the older pc. It buzzed to life, and Hermione spent a few minutes clicking around before she ended up on the page she wanted.

“This is his dissertation on Shakespeare in the time of Elizabeth.” said Hermione, turning the laptop towards Ginny a bit and tilting the screen back. She scrolled so Ginny could see the page length.

“Does that say 30 or 300?” asked Ginny, squinting at the screen.

“Three hundred.” replied Hermione. She closed out of the tab. “I’ve read a bit of it. It’s interesting stuff. He really…” she trailed off, looking at Ginny, who was chuckling to herself again.

“You’ve really got it bad for this guy, huh?” Ginny leaned in closer, reading the first few lines. “This is pretty interesting.” She leaned back again, and looked at Hermione. “This guy is a doctor? How fucking old is he?”

“Forty one.” replied Hermione, very quietly. Ginny looked at Hermione, took in the look of consternation plastered to the older girl’s face, and patted her on the shoulder.

“You said you’d meet him when?” asked Ginny, glancing at the clock on Hermione’s computer.

“Six.” Hermione paused. “You really think it might be the porn thing?”

“I really think he’s forty one, and if it’s not the porn thing with a twenty two year old, something’s wrong with him.” Ginny said sarcastically. Hermione laughed and took another sip of her wine. “Well. I have homework and a Harry to do before the Friday night revelry, so I’m gonna head out.” she downed the last of her wine and set the glass back onto Hermione’s dresser, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I love you.” she said, leaning over to place a perfunctory kiss on the top of Hermione’s head. “Good luck.”

“I love you too.” said Hermione, watching her friend go. Ginny swept her long mane of ginger hair over her shoulder, and shut the door behind her, leaving Hermione alone with her thoughts. She felt confused and alone in her situation; one that could’ve been avoided completely if she’d just gone to bed last night like she told herself to before sending the email.

Heart aching, Hermione found her essay and loaded it onto a flash drive. The time on her clock read 5:19. Time couldn’t move slower.

* * *

Eventually - Hermione thought her watch was broken at one point when 5:42 felt like it dragged on for half an hour - she stood outside of Professor Lupin’s office in the Social Sciences department, her palms sweaty, one hand wrapped tightly around her curled up essay. She raised one hand to knock on the door, but a voice sounded from behind her before she could.

“Ms Granger, I’m sorry if I’ve kept you waiting.” She turned to see Lupin jogging up the hall towards her, two mugs and a small bag of instant coffee in his hands. “I forgot about our meeting until about ten minutes ago.”

“That’s okay.” she replied. “I’ve only been here a few minutes.” This was a lie. She’d skulked outside the building where she thought no one would see her for twenty minutes after her paper had printed. Lupin shuffled the bag of coffee into his mug filled hand and dug around in the pocket of his blazer before he finally pulled out a jingling set of keys. He unlocked the door, switched on the light, then gestured for her to enter before him.

The office itself was unremarkable. Four very plain walls with a simple oak desk standing in the middle; on it sat an older variation of a desktop monitor - Hermione knew the computer would be hidden beneath the desk - and a blue, porcelain lamp with a cream shade. The items Lupin had added was what made the room interesting. Several small paintings adorned the wall directly left of his desk, while a tall, old-fashioned, oak filing cabinet stood in the corner behind the door. His desk was piled with any assortment of papers, folders, manila envelopes, and a couple coffee mugs; stains of coffee ran down their sides. This office, more than anything, told Hermione what kind of person Remus Lupin was - unorganized, disheveled, and messy; but also quirky and artistic and classic. Hermione stood awkwardly behind the chairs at his desk as he hurried over to a mini-fridge with an electric kettle and basket of tea on top of it. He opened the kettle then, humming to himself, nodded and flicked the switch on, snapping the lid shut again as he did so.

“Please sit down, Ms. Granger.” said Lupin, taking a seat behind his desk. His chair swiveled a little as he did so, and he had to stop it with one hand, which gripped the desk hard enough for her to see the faint scars on his knuckles. She sat across from him, crossed her legs, uncrossed her legs, then unfurled her essay. There was a strained silence between them before Lupin reached a hand across the desk. “I’ll take your essay.” Hermione couldn’t hide her blush as he began to read it, flipping silently through the fifteen page essay. The water boiled and the kettle shut off in the background, but Hermione was entranced watching Lupin read. His mouth moved a little as his finger trailed down the page. A few pages in he paused, pulled the drawer in front of him open, and took out a red pen, which he used to mark things as he continued to read.

He looked up after he finished, over to the kettle which had shut off many minutes ago, and stood. Hermione kept her eyes firmly plastered to her knees, listening as he rattled around behind her.

“Ms Granger-”

“You can just call me Hermione, Professor.” she spluttered, interrupting him. She turned to look at him: he was holding a mug in his hand and milk in the other, a look of surprise on his face.

“Well then, Hermione.” he paused, as if he was feeling her name in his mouth. “Do you take milk in your coffee?”

“Just a bit.” she said. Her hands shook as she accepted the black mug from him and took a sip. It wasn’t good, though she didn’t let that show in her face. She took another sip and held the mug carefully in her hands, not sure where to set it down. The silence between them extended again as he looked back down at her essay. A long pause followed as he rustled the pages.

“It’s very good.” he said after some time. “There are a few spelling errors and dates I need you to correct, as well as a couple of spots where you didn’t cite your source.” He handed the paper back to her; his handwriting was elegant but cramped, and even as she looked through it she knew she’d find it hard to read in time. She nodded and took another sip of her coffee. “Ms Grang-” he cut himself off, then continued. “Hermione, I need you to understand something.” He stood and came around the front of his desk, leaning back against it once he was there. “I have seen you all over campus. I’ve watched you grow from scared and new to an incredible learning machine. You’re quite the student.” Hermione could feel a blush pulling its way onto her face. She smiled and avoided his eyes.

“Thank you, Professor.” she said, looking down into her lap.

“Hermione,” he said, a lilt to his voice that caused her to look up.

“Yes, sir?”

“Why did you send me that email?”

Hermione looked back down at her lap, then up at him once more, biting her lip and biding her time before she was forced to answer. How would be best to phrase this? _What do I say to a professor I’ve had a crush on for years?_ “Well, you see, sir-”

“It wasn’t merely a professional email, now was it?” There was something different about his voice when he said that. It had dropped a bit, and carried an animalistic quality to it that made Hermione’s eyes widen slightly. She shook her head, gazing into his - she now could tell - hazel eyes; brown tinged with green, which was met in the middle by a shocking ring of amber. There was no way she could lie to this man, whom although she barely knew, she felt a pull of trust tug at her chest. Remus’ lips twitched in a suppressed smile, and he took a sip of his coffee before setting the mug down on his already messy work area. He placed one hand on either of Hermione’s arm rests, so his face was inches from her as he leaned down. His eyes searched her face, wandering from her hairline to her brow, settling on her lips and nose and finally looking straight into her deep brown eyes. He smile surfaced, one that was half wolfish, half sincere. “You truly are very beautiful.”

“Thank you.” said Hermione, trying her hardest not to recoil. Her heart was thumping a million miles an hour in her chest, making her feel like she may explode. Remus lifted one hand, brushing it against her cheek.

“What I want to do to you is very, very against the rules.” He closed his eyes and leaned back. “Which is why I can’t.” Hermione didn’t realize she’d been leaning into his touch until it was gone. “Your email - so innocuous and innocent, Hermione - it did something to me.” He paced back behind his desk and sat down, turning his chair so it faced the door. The tiny window into the hallway was shaded by his blinds. Hermione wasn’t sure if he was hoping someone would come in and interrupt them. Office hours were nearly over, with only a few professors deigning to stay this late on a Friday. “I can’t get you out of my head.”

Hermione placed her own mug on the desk and stood; she brushed her legs off, crossed the office, and stood in front of him now. He didn’t look at her, but twined his fingers through hers when she offered them. “Tell me about yourself.” he said, his voice soft. “Let me take you to dinner.” Their eyes met. A knowing moment passed, one where she realized she couldn’t say no to him, even if she wanted to. So, she simply nodded her head and left with him.

* * *

Dinner passed in a blur where Hermione told him all about her childhood and he told her all about his. His mother was sick for most of his youth, and he tended to be a sickly child as well. He went to boarding school in Scotland; this struck a chord with Hermione, and when she looked up, mouth agape, he nodded and said, “the very same one that Harry’s father went to, yes Hermione.” She came to find that his best friend was Sirius Black, Harry’s godfather and a punk rocker who was rarely seen since being released from prison.

“He lived with me for some time.” said Remus, patting his mouth with his napkin. They’d gone to an Italian restaurant about as far away from campus as either could afford to drive, leaving them certain no one would see them. Hermione finished her pasta and set her fork down.

“What now, professor?” she said with a smile.

“Well,” said Remus, pausing long enough to hand the check and his credit card back to the server. “I’d prefer if you called me Remus, as we’re on a date.” Hermione nodded and allowed him to pull her chair back for her as they both stood. He signed and tipped and then they were on their way again. Back in the car, Hermione found her hand engulfed by his. “I’d like to take you home.” A shot of disappointment found its way into Hermione’s gut, but she nodded in agreement. He looked at her as he took his hand back to turn onto the interstate, and realized his mistake. “My home, Hermione.” Her eyes widened a bit, but she nodded again and visibly brightened. The drive was slower after that; it seemed to take an hour to get to some place fifteen minutes away, and her heart was racing in anticipation. Had she shaved? Did she smell okay? Was the shower from the night before enough to disguise the fact that she’d had sex with her ex-boyfriend only eighteen hours ago? She glanced at the clock on the dashboard; 7:42. “Are you okay?” Remus’ voice startled her out of her revery, causing her to jump.

“Oh,” she murmured. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“I don’t mean to make you nervous. We don’t have to do anything you don’t-”

“No, it’s not you.” she paused. “It’s not you.” she repeated with a slight shake of her head. “It’s been sort of a long day.” Remus nodded in response and pulled off the expressway. His home was a bit south of the campus, tucked into a residential area far from where most students would wander. He pulled into the driveway and killed the engine, then turned towards her. Hermione could feel her heart in her fingertips and ankles.

“If this is too forward please stop me, but I’d like to kiss you.” Hermione’s eyes widened again - she seemed to be doing that a lot tonight.

“Are you serious?” she asked incredulously. He nodded.

“I told you Hermione, I can’t get you out of my head. I don’t know what it is. You were in there before you emailed me and now it’s - gods it’s so much worse.” He leaned in towards her, and Hermione leaned back so she was pressed against the passenger side door. In this situation, Remus was beautiful and intimidating. He had streaks of grey - proper grey - running through his light brown hair; his eyes had wrinkles around the edges and his pupils were dilated slightly. She could tell he was panic stricken by her hesitation, so she leaned forward and pressed her mouth gently to his.

Magic was the only word she could use to describe the sensation of kissing him. Locked in this casual embrace in his car, she felt his hand press hesitantly to the back of her head. When she pressed forward in encouragement, his tongue slipped greedily to taste her lips. When she allowed him entry, he moaned in relief and satisfaction, fingers curled through her mess of dark brown hair, nails gently scratching the nape of her neck. Their tongues glided against one another, time melted into slow motion, and Hermione's soft moan made Remus all the more hungry for her. His mouth was bruising against hers, and for the second time in less than a whole day, she was desperate for the feeling of someone else's flesh against hers. But this, this was new. It had a fresh feeling to it, one she didn’t recognize and felt almost apart from; it was all lust, all sin. Her hands went to Remus’ chest, then one trailed up to his face, where she could feel a hint of stubble appearing on his strong jaw. The kiss deepened, and he pressed into her, a groan escaping him when the center console jutted against his stomach.

“Would you like to come in?” he asked, voice slightly concerned. Hermione nodded and he pressed back, pulling his keys from the ignition before he exited the car. They walked quickly up the path to his front door, Remus fumbling with his keys the whole way. There was a nervous energy between them. Hermione wondered if he’d ever done this before, but shook the thought away. Once inside, he turned and pushed her against the front door, kissing her feverishly. Her hands trailed up to his neck, and his clutched to her sides. Time was lost on her, they spent so long here, mouth to mouth. Remus released her after a long moment and just looked at her. His eyes were dark and full of longing. Then he stepped back, laughing nervously. “Do you want something to drink?” Hermione shook her head and took his hand, guiding it carefully up to her face. She pressed her cheek against it, then her lips. His thumb found her bottom lip and pulled it down gently; Hermione took this as a cue to take the digit into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around his thumb, then dragged her teeth down it, letting it fall wet down her face. Remus moaned wantonly. A surprised yelp escaped Hermione’s lips as he lifted her up into his arms and turned her, pressing her into the wall. She could feel his hardness pressing against her; she wrapped her legs around his waist as her head fell back against the wall. His lips found her neck and Hermione gasped. A hot wetness was growing between her legs; she was desperate for him.

“Oh, gods, Remus-” Hermione bit her lip to keep herself from laughing. She never thought she’d find herself in this position; her professor’s hands palmed her ass as he continued to lave her neck with his lips and tongue. She gasped again when he bit her gently near the collarbone. “Please…” she whined, a high pitched moan of a sound. He released her, setting her gently back to the floor. Those hazel eyes of his answered all the questions she had trapped inside her, and she nodded fervently, taking both of his hands in her own.

He dragged her to the bedroom, each of them stripping clothes off as they went, so when they got there she was clad in her thin tank-top and lacy knickers and he in his unbuttoned jeans, shorts peeking out above them. There was a scant smattering of hair on his chest, which was toned but not overly defined. The hair grew thicker near the line of his pants, trailing down past the point where fabric still covered his skin. Hermione grew a little nervous with Remus’ eyes on her, his bed between them. The bedroom was small, the bed taking up most of the room, with a lamp on one side and a nightstand on the other. Remus pressed his jeans down his legs stepping out of them awkwardly, a hushed laugh escaping his lips as he did so. He climbed onto the bed, one finger extending and beckoning her forward. Hermione went, knees weak and hands shaking slightly as she did. She climbed onto the bed -- it was softer than she’d expected, the duvet a soft material, floral patterned and pastel colored. Remus wrapped one hand around her back and drew the other up to her face.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, smiling genially at her. “I can’t believe-” he cut himself off, choosing instead to press his lips against hers. She hummed against his mouth, both hands fluttering gently to his shoulders. He laid her back, finding space over her. “Is this okay?” he asked. She nodded. “Are you sure?”

“Remus, please, don’t ask me again. I’m sure.”

“This is so fast-” Hermione pressed her fingers to his lips, a smile catching on her own.

“Sometimes that’s okay.” she said. And she meant it. Remus’ mouth curved into a smile, and he kissed her fingers then moved past them to press a kiss to her forehead. There was a tenderness between them that she’d never experienced before. This wasn’t a quick fuck between a professor and his student, she realized. This was something more. There was an attraction, a definite longing that spanned much further than lust or unsubstantiated pleasure; it connected her to him in a way she hadn't yet figured out. Remus took her tank top between his fingers and lifted it up, exposing her stomach and then her breasts. His head dipped down as she finished pulling it off over her head, a surprised moan escaping her when he gripped one of her breasts in his hand, feeling it, weighing it against his palm. His lips found her nipple, and she thought she’d come undone right there. But he didn’t stop there; keeping one hand on her chest, his mouth worked its way down to the edge of her panties, teeth pulling at the fabric so it came down with him. He wrapped his free fingers around the elastic band, and Hermione lifted her hips to let him pull them all the way off. She was naked now, skin covered in gooseflesh that had nothing to do with the chillness of the room. Remus gave an audible gasp and she looked down in time to see his mouth meet her wet mound. She moaned, loud and hard.

“Gods-” she whispered, her voice cutting out as his tongue made soft, lapping motions against her. His fingers found her opening and pressed into it, two of them sinking deep into her, making her hips buck against him. “Fuck!” she cried, hand going to grip the back of his head. His hair was soft, and her fingers curled into it, tangling through it, pulling softly against it. Remus moaned against her heated core, sending vibrations into her, making the already intense sensations even moreso. Hermione came back to her senses and patted his shoulder, causing his head to rise just a fraction enough to look at her.

“I want you-” she whispered, breath coming in pants now, “inside of me. Please?” Her last word was a pleading groan as his fingers continued to work in and out of her. Eyes darkening further, Remus nodded and pulled his hand away, making Hermione whine from the lost sensation. He moved up her body, so he was hovering over her, one hand going to the band of his boxers, which she helped to push down frantically. His hard member fell against her swollen clit, causing her to hiss in pleasure. He rocked against her, not entering. One of his hands found the back of her thigh and lifted it up. She took his hard cock in her own hands, feeling the slight girth and good length. _Fuck, he really is perfect,_ she thought to herself as she lined him up with her center. He thrusted hard into her, an unexpected reprieve from the tenderness they’d had only moments before. Hermione’s legs wrapped around the back of him, heels pressing into his lower back as he kept up a hard, but slow rhythm. He was experienced, and although this was new to her, she was enjoying it immensely. Each thrust brought with it a soft sound from Remus’ slightly parted lips, which whispered against the shell of her ear. Her hands clutched at his back, and with every slow pull out, she gripped his shoulders tightly, desperately, lifting up her hips to match each thrust.

Remus wound one hand around her back and flipped them, so she was sitting on him; she could feel him inside her, could feel her arousal mounting, growing, getting ever closer to this inscrutable edge. She rocked her hips forward as his hands met them, pushing and pulling her in time with her own movements. There was something about his need to control her that made her skin heat up. A flush built on her chest and crept up her face, sweat beading on her back and under her lip. She used one hand to gather her hair to the top of her head, holding it there and regretting her inability to keep hair ties around for longer than a week. Remus watched her with half-lidded eyes, his sounds of pleasure bringing her closer and closer.

“Fuck, Hermione,” he said, hands moving to palm her breasts. Her name on his tongue made her walls throb. She trailed one hand over his chest, through the light hairs there, down as she kept up her steady back and forth rhythm on him, to her own sex. His brows creased a little as she pressed two fingers between them, and rubbed her clit in slow, sensual circles. Her head fell back and she let her hair drop, a curly halo that floated, fizzy and wispy, around her face. “Holy shit.”

“R-Remus, I’m-” Hermione could feel her ecstasy building, a spring which was coiling tightly in her stomach, begging for release. Remus wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down to meet him, his lips crushing hers as his hands found her ass. She felt him raise his knees and his hips began to slam into hers, fast thrusts which caused a long moan to grow from her, growing louder and louder as she came closer and closer to the edge. “Oh- oh, oh my god- I’m c-” She gripped the pillows just above his head, crying out as her orgasm hit her like a wave. Remus pulled out quickly and flipped her, wrapping a hand around his cock as he knelt beside her on the bed and came in thick, hot jets onto her stomach, one hand still on her, making her spasm and whimper in extended pleasure. She panted in release as he fell onto the bed beside her, his skin slick with sweat. Hermione caught his hand in hers as he moved it. He looked at her.

“That was incredible.” he said. Hermione, still breathless, could only nod. “You’re incredible.” She smiled at him.

“Shh.” she said, reaching her free hand across to his face. She pulled him in for a sloppy and exhausted kiss. They shared the quiet of the room for a long time, letting their hearts calm and their breathing return to normal. Hermione kept her hand on Remus’ face, sliding her thumb up and down his cheek. He looked less overworked with his eyes closed, his hand resting on top of hers. The crease between his brow had disappeared, replaced by subtle lines as his eyebrows raised ever so slightly.

“Do you want to shower?” he asked a while later, opening his eyes. She nodded, but kept her hand firmly in his as she sat up.

“Will you show me where?” she asked innocently. Remus’ lips quirked up in a smile.

“Of course.”


	3. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione always finishes what she started.

Hermione had graduated with honors, of course, though not because of any professor she happened to be canoodling with at the time. In fact, it wasn’t long after her date with Remus that she went to student services and asked to be transferred out of the class, citing that it simply didn’t fit in her already very busy schedule. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t have enjoyed watching her professor move around the room in his tight, professional slacks, or that the meetings outside of class weren’t already chaste enough. It was more for his sake than hers. One teacher gave her a load of problems in her last three weeks - it seemed that he was determined to fail her, keeping her from graduating cuma sum laude. She’d brushed it off, however (though, after talking to Remus, she found that he was simply a tough grader, and it may not have had anything to do with her at all). Professor Snape became the least of her worries as summer closed in. Ron and Lavender had, indeed, broken up after she’d found out about him and Hermione. This was one of those unfortunate circumstances that Hermione found she couldn’t fix, which drove her up the wall. By winter break of that year, she was crying in Remus’ office.

“I’ve ruined a friendship because I couldn’t keep my pants on.” she moaned, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. Remus raised one eyebrow.

“Well,” he said gently, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. “I have a question for you.” Hermione nodded and rubbed her eyes, looking up at him. His face was lined with concern and regret. 

“If you’d never…” he trailed off, pausing to choose new words. “If we hadn’t done what we did, would you be with him now?” 

Hermione simply stared at him, not knowing how to respond. She’d never even considered that possibility. Once it had happened with Remus, that was all she could think of. “N-no.” she said. “No, I wouldn’t.” Remus’ face broke into a smile that, although small, she could tell was full of relief. “Don’t you worry about that,” she said, “that ship sailed a long time ago. I…” She gripped his hand tightly in her own. “I don’t want anyone but you.” 

Keeping things quiet had been hard, especially when they became more and more involved with each others lives. Hermione had already met Sirius Black on a number of occasions with Harry, especially after his parole had ended and Harry could be released into his custody when he was sixteen. It was different spending time with him around Remus, though. He was less guarded, less careful of what he said around his old friend. Hermione could tell that, even if they weren’t anymore, the bond they shared went beyond that of just friends. 

Summer came, and Hermione moved back home to get ready for graduate school. Remus wrote her - an old fashioned courtship style she hoped would never end between them - but he also came to visit her, to take her to dinner, to make love to her quietly and tenderly in her bedroom while her parents weren’t home or were sleeping. There were times when she questioned what she was doing - where this was going. But when the letters from him came, all that was washed away. He took her to France, and they spent hours on the Grande Plage in Biarritz, sunbathing and splashing and just looking at each other, where no one knew how they’d started. 

When she told him she was going to graduate school, however, that was when she felt the shift, and the worry started to set in. Back home, where he couldn’t see her, where she couldn’t see him, she felt the tension taking hold. 

“Hermione,” he said over the phone late one night while she was packing. The summer was winding to a sticky end, and he was preparing to meet his new classes in two weeks. She grunted in response, already feeling the nerves building in her chest and stomach, like butterflies or caged birds begging to be released. She knew what was coming, and had felt the weight of it pressing on her for days before he finally called. “Is… am I what you really want?” 

Hermione sniffed. She had nothing to stay, but had to stop packing as tears welled in her eyes. She placed her hands on her hips, casting a long look around her room while she waited for him to continue speaking. 

“You’re young.” he continued, voice tinny through her speaker. “You’re so young and beautiful and you deserve to be with someone who can give you a life.” Hermione sighed, and she could almost picture him holding up his hand, asking her without words to let him finish. “Wait, wait. Let me get this out and then you can talk.” 

“I love you.” she said. She couldn’t hold it in anymore, couldn’t make herself keep from saying it after wanting to say it for months. There was silence from the other end of the phone, and Hermione looked over to make sure the call was still connected. 

“What?” he said. 

“You heard me.” Hermione replied. 

“I want you to say it again.” 

“I love you.” 

The call crackled a bit in the silence. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and waited for him to respond, unsure how he was going to react. 

“Oh.” was all he said. Hermione clenched her teeth. “I wasn’t expecting that.” 

“Well, I do. And I have for a while, but I was waiting for the right time to say it and I definitely didn’t want it to be over the phone.” she spat. 

“Hermione…” Remus’ voice was low, quiet, almost a whisper. It was filled with something she couldn’t define without seeing his face.

“I should go.” she said, picking up the phone. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” She ended the call and threw herself on the bed, ignoring it as it began to bing and buzz with texts. 

The next morning broke with her curled atop her covers, still in her day clothes from the night before, boxes still unpacked. Hermione felt a curl of guilt and regret peel through her, brushing her heart and stomach, making them both flip and turn. She picked up her phone. There were only a few notifications, most from Remus, one from her mom, and one from Ron. She checked the one from her mom first. 

**Mom, 05.41:** _ Getting in around midnight tonight. Do you want to do lunch tomorrow with dad?  _

Hermione ignored it and moved back to the messages screen. 

**Ron, 03.22:** _ You’re probably not up, but we should talk. I met someone. _

Hermione rolled her eyes and ignored that too. That was a mess she would have to deal with later. There were three from Remus. 

**Remus, 23.57:** _ I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.  _

**Remus, 00.02:** _ I’m coming to see you tomorrow. We can talk then.  _

**Remus, 02.31:** _ I love you too, Hermione.  _

Hermione’s heart jumped out of her chest as a knock sounded at her door. It was nine thirty in the morning; her mother wouldn’t be in until probably midnight and her father was at the office. She stepped to her bay window, peeking through the multicolored curtains to her front porch. Remus stood there, a bouquet of flowers in one hand, looking nervously around. He glanced upwards and saw her and motioned for her to come down. She ran from the room, leaping down the stairs dangerously quickly, and hurtled to the front door. Wrenching it open, she reached out and pulled him in, wrapping him in her arms before he could protest. 

“This is what I want.” she said, replying to his question from the night before. “This is all I want.” Remus’ hands gently rested on her shoulders, pushing her back. Her brows creased, but her face brightened as he handed her the bouquet. It was full of different flowers: light pink carnations, white tulips just blooming, lavender and light purple hyacinth giving the flowers a fruity and honey-like smell. She brought them close to her chest, dipping her head down to smell them; Remus took her moment of inattention to lift her up bridal style. She yelped and almost dropped the flowers, but threw one arm over his shoulders to keep him from dropping her. He carried her up the stairs, and into her bedroom. After he crossed the threshold of her room, he set her down gently and moved her to the bed, putting both hands on her shoulders and pressing so she would sit. 

“I’ve been thinking a lot about this.” he said, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. This simple action was enough to make Hermione’s heart race and heat pool in her core. She didn’t think she’d ever be more turned on by someone putting their hands in their pockets. Remus stopped in front of her and removed his coat, which he tossed onto the bed next to her. He stepped forward and looked down at her, gently taking the bouquet of flowers from her and placing them on the bed as well, so he could clutch both of her hands in his. “I want you to have a life you’re proud to live.” He took a deep breath, then reached across her and dug into the pocket of his coat, pulling out a small, dark blue, velvet box. “Which is why…” He knelt down in front of her. Hermione’s hands sprung to her mouth. 

“Remus, you don’t-” 

“But I do.” he paused and swallowed hard. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. This isn’t just me not wanting to lose you - I don’t, but…” He took a deep breath. “You’re the best thing that’s come into my life for a long time. I wake up every morning and I remember that I have you and I can get out of bed without worrying what the day will bring me, because even if you’re not beside me at the end of the night, I know you’re there.” Tears were falling fast down Hermione’s face, and Remus had to look up at the ceiling to keep his from falling too. His voice was rough and throaty when he spoke again. “I want you forever. Hermione Jean Granger, will you please do me the honor of marrying me?” He opened the box to reveal a beautiful, simple gold band inlaid with a small, deep blue sapphire. It was framed on either side by smaller pearls, which were framed by a smaller trio of diamonds. 

There was a long pause in which Hermione couldn’t speak or think or breathe. Her chest felt tight and her stomach was filled with butterflies. Tears continued to fall as Remus stared beseechingly at her; his hands were shaking. She nodded, slowly and softly at first, but as she slid off the bed and onto her knees in front of him, her left hand extended slightly, her nodding became rigorous and demanding. 

“Yes?” Remus asked, releasing a deep breath. “You’re saying yes?” Hermione nodded more; her throat felt tight, like she couldn’t talk even if she wanted to. There was another moment where they simply stared into each others eyes, not daring to speak and break the tranquility between them. But then Remus took the ring carefully from its plush lining and with shaking hands pushed it down her finger. It fit. Hermione laughed, almost nervously, and looked between him and the ring a few times before she finally let out a most un-Hermione-ish squeal of delight and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him fervently. 

When they came back to the world an hour or so later, sweaty and panting and covering each other, Hermione turned to him. “I have to call my mom and tell her.” 

“You have a lot of people to tell.” 

“Do you want me to move in with you?” 

“Do you want to?” 

“I’m still going to school in that area, it would only make sense.” 

“Then you should.”

“Then I will.” 

And she did. 

A year later they had their wedding on the beach in France where they took their first trip together as a couple. Her father walked her down the aisle; her mother cried softly in the front row. Ginny and Luna stood just behind her; Sirius and Harry stood just behind Remus. All of her friends threw petals in large handfuls as she walked down the aisle, hand in hand with the man she loved; and in this moment, she knew she’d never have to keep secret her feelings again. All because of an email one drunken night in November. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, please give it a bookmark, a kudo, or a comment. If you want to see more of my work, please click the username at the beginning of the story. Thanks again!


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